


the tigers come at night

by gl_bgolyb



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Death, Divorce, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Miscarriage, Neglect, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl_bgolyb/pseuds/gl_bgolyb
Summary: Vignettes/flash fiction detailing random regrettable occurrences in the life of a certain scientist. Like a Lifetime movie, but without the inspirational happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

Large box stores, generally speaking, are not a good place to have any kind of crisis. This is very much relative to the concepts of ‘grieving’ and ‘attempting to purchase several hundred dollars worth of pinot noir’, two activities that Dr. Roxanne Lalonde was most definitely _not_ partaking in. Her cart was full with moscato and cat food. There was also a single box of instant mac and cheese. This was not important. What _was_ important was that a woman previously employed at Skaianet laboratories as a research assistant was in the next aisle over and recognized her. 

“Roxy! It’s so good to see you!” 

Internalizing a groan, Roxanne turned and put on her best smile. “Oh… _hello,_ um…” 

Her former coworker seemed to completely miss her faltering memory and continued the conversation. “Wow, you look great! How’s Mr. Harley? You two were always on top of each other at the seminars, haha.” 

Roxanne’s hands tightened a bit on her cart. “He’s well,” she said, leaving out the fact that they had been divorced for five years and that it had not been amicable in any way, shape, or form. “How is _your_ husband?” 

Beaming, the woman gestured to her bump and opened her handbag, rifling through what could only be described as ‘a slightly worrying amount of photographs for someone to carry around casually’. “Well, we’re prepping for our fourth right now! And we just bought a summer home and my oldest is on the honor roll!” 

“Lovely,” said Roxanne, struggling to breathe evenly. She swallowed and debated replacing the moscato with pinot noir, maybe scotch. “Well. I really have to get going.” 

“Shoot, school is getting out soon,” said the painfully oblivious ex coworker, checking her watch. “Your kid is in kindergarten now, right? Last time I saw you, you looked ready to pop--wait, Roxy? Where are you going?” 

Dr. Roxanne Lalonde had abandoned her cart and had begun to walk in the opposite direction. Passerby might have described her as ‘dazed’ or ‘distraught’ if they had actually taken the time to look up from their couponing and endless deals, but she was blissfully ignored as her heels clicked against the cheap linoleum. The lights were too bright and she felt her guts roiling, nauseous by proxy of old ghosts buried too soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a distant future, but a little to the right

LOG FOUND.   


ACCESS LOG?   


[YES] NO   


ACCESS GRANTED. 

TG: dirk 

TG: u wake ? 

TT: Yes. 

TG: lol ur not dirk 

TT: Thank you. 

TT: What’s up? 

TG: i keep having these funky dreams 

TG: where im like me but older and exponantially HOTTER 

TT: Exponentially*. 

TG: oh choke on some digital DICK :( 

TT: If only. 

TG: im serious!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

TG: i dont know how 2 explain it really 

TG: but im like married to old man jake? 

TT: Jake. 

TG: yeah 

TT: As in Jake English. 

TG: did i fuckin stutter 

TT: Go on. 

TG: okay so 

TG: hes old and has a SICK porn stache 

TG: but its so fuckin weird 

TT: For a few reasons, yeah. 

LOG END. 

RESTART? 

YES [NO] 

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN. DO NOT POWER OFF TERMINAL.


	3. Chapter 3

Roxanne was pretty sure the marriage wasn’t legally recognized. She sort of wished it had been, so at least she’d be seen. 

She remembered their wedding day. She had turned eighteen a week before, and he seemed like he was in a hurry when he kissed her at the altar, hands on her hips. Of course, he had to get home, to his actual wife, the one that was dying of _complications_ , and his little girl. 

Roxy only found out about them after the original Mrs. Harley was six feet under. “You can be their babysitter,” he had said, and the words stun. “Just...ease into things.” 

The girl was sweet, made melancholy at three by death, and the boy was just a baby. She swallowed her pride and changed diapers and helped them get ready for school and cleaned the house, over and over. She’d wait for him to get home from **The Lab** and then, as instructed, coat her thighs and insides with ice. 

He liked her to be cold.


End file.
